


he's just a tea boy.

by リリス - riris (arurun)



Series: in memory of the ones that live again. [7]
Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Crossdressing, Gen, Minor Violence, Muteness, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Past Character Death, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2020-10-14 15:36:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20603186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arurun/pseuds/%E3%83%AA%E3%83%AA%E3%82%B9%20-%20riris
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a weak and cowardly knight that served under a king. But this knight shielded his king from an assault-- he died. In glory of him, his statue was erected in the center of his hometown, exalted from generations to generations.Noo-Ri was born with the scar of that knight on his shoulder.





	1. "Tea Boy"

**Author's Note:**

> uhm, hi! thanks for reading?

“To begin with, you're too much of a roughneck!"

"What's with that, you sissy, wanna fight? I'll send you flying!"

"One second's all it takes for me to stop your heart, you weed!"

"Are ya fightin'? let me in!"

Lord White Dragon pouts, finding himself ignored by the two bickering dragons before him. His oversized claw, brimming with glistening white scales, are bared and extended in an impatient sort of ferocity. His grin is kind and humorous, but holding back a bursting glee.

The blood of the Green Dragon roars irritably, fists shuddering in the other’s face as he handles his spear with withheld aggression. His teeth, strangely sharp canines, grind in displeasure, and a growl akin to a mountain beast rumbles from his throat.

Most alarmingly, the eyes of the Blue Dragon are one flicker away from a thunderstorm. His brows furrow in a way that they never do out of battle, his hand poised before the other in a defensive stance for war. His usual bird companions have vacated the location, sensing the danger moments prior.

Through it all, the youngest of the pack laughs. Yellow sways his feet over the ledge he’s perched on, bursting into shamelessly amused guffaws. In the midst of chaos, he is much promptly disregarded.

Very appropriately, King Hiryuu (who has apparently been there, who was undeniably the cause of this madness in the first place) giggles, leaning by the Yellow Dragon’s side, taking in the scene in such gentle affection for the four children he looks upon dearly.

“Aren’t you going to try and stop them?” 

“I gave up trying a long time ago.”

ー

“Oh, it’s Tea Boy!”

Squeaking at the sudden attention, the tray leapt out of the teen’s hands. Stabilizing it quickly, he stiffened in time for Zeno to hop down from his spot, beaming.

“Abi, Shuten, there’s tea!” he announces to the two, “and cakes!”

The two whirled around like windmills, deathly glares fired in the direction of the poor tea carrier, who was shuddering under the hostile glances.

“Yay, tea!” King Hiryuu sparkled into the scene, “thanks as always, Sang.”

The boy, Sang, jerks in a nod, holding up the tray of served tea for the group. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes gazed expectantly at the King as he took a cup and sipped.

"You're a soldier, yet all you do is serve tea," Abi scoffed, taking the tea that was although rather lukewarm, had a pleasant aroma. Abi may not enjoy the boy’s ever-terrible timing, but he had to admit the boy could brew some great tea.

Unable to deny the harsh words, Sang chuckled dryly, casting his gaze to the corner of his vision. He tapped restlessly on the edge of the tray, not meeting any eyes.

"Reminds me of a certain someone," Guen swiped a glance at Zeno, who made a whine in response, starting somewhere with 'I told you, I'm not a fighting type--'

"As usual, this tea stinks," Shuten snorted, sipping his tea gratefully but spitting crude words.

"You just don't understand how to appreciate good tea, wild animal," Abi snarled.

"Oh, that's it, you and I are taking this outside!" Shuten tossed down his cup of half-finished tea, leaping up and raging with his glaive in hand--

"And there they go again," Zeno threw his hands up in defeat. “Are you sure you should be here instead of joining the rest of Shuten’s faction in training drills?”

At that, Sang curled his lips in almost guiltily.

"How is it that you’re always here with us," Guen dropped a rough forearm on top of 'tea boy', lolling his head around like a toy, “and King Hiryuu apparently doesn’t mind?”

King Hiryuu smiled, “it’s fine, isn’t it? Sang hurt his wrist the other day, so he needs a break.”

The boy in question only managed an awkward smile, raising his left hand from the tea pot. Under the sleeve of his plain green clothing, his hand, from the edge of his knuckles to the middle of his forearm, was wrapped in bandages, smelling faintly of medicine.

"Tea boy!" abruptly Shuten and Abi yelled, "cake!"

Actually jumping in fright, Sang almost dropped the tea tray he held on the ledge, then reached clumsily for the other tray he'd put aside, uncovering a dish of tea cakes the chef had baked in the morning.

Hesitantly he held it toward the two raging dragon warriors who swoomped it right out of the plate so quickly they'd barely even tasted it.

...were they having an eating battle now?

"Are you sure you should be carrying trays and stuff with that wrist?" Zeno asked, concerned, "the palace dishes and ornaments are all pretty heavy and stuff."

At the concern, Sang managed a smile, and shook his head, bowing in thanks for the consideration. He shook his injured wrist around a few times, twisting it around to assure the dragon warrior that it was fine.

"Hah?!" Shuten shot around with a rather annoyed groan, spear forgotten and cake coked out, "haven’t you heard the protocol for injuries? Get healed or get out! If you’re in my faction, ya should’ve’d that drilled into ya on day one, moron!"

Sang squirmed under the reprimand, Shuten’s face coming uncomfortably close to him as he all but talked him to the ground.

"He's right," Abi added in (although the boy was literally a kicked puppy at this point,) "Shuten’s faction are a bunch of musclebrains, but they get the work done. If you fail to keep up, you will end up nothing less than a burden on the field.”

Finishing the last bit of his tea, Abi demanded seconds on his cake. 

"You two never agree on anything other than the king, but tea boy's the exception, eh?" Guen teased, earning a few snappy retorts from the two.

“Don’t bully him, he’s not a fighting type too,” Zeno stood protectively over the boy, puffing up his cheeks in protest, “and Tea boy gave us cake! Where’s your thank you?”

ー

Sang, without a last name. 

Simply Sang, with a strange flair for making tea and serving guests-- these were women jobs at the time, but in the time of war, there was no one around to mockingly point it out.

One strange thing-- was that this boy, peculiar as he was, was accepted dearly by the four Dragon Warriors and their King. Despite being a weak, wimpy oddball with no military strength to boast of, they guarded him as a symbol of home.

He was their Tea Boy, and strangely enough, they wanted to keep it that way.

While the countries drafted for soldiers, Sang was just one of many that were ripped from his village, shelved into armor, and arranged for an army. 

However, Tea Boy was weak, and no amount of tea-making would change that.

From a nameless village in the corner of the country, packaged and shipped to become a soldier he wasn't suited to be. He was cowardly-- his hands were thin and bony and never made for battle. As a result, he wallowed in the defense, never fitting well.

In certain battles Sang would find himself near the King as the Red Dragon returned-- today was the same. Greeting Hiryuu as he made his way through the front gates, Sang bowed on his knees, then stood up to help the king from his steed.

King Hiryuu flashed only the most esteemed of smiles (regal, dignified, manly, and only a little curt, it’s the smile of a king dismissing his servant) in his direction-- because his childlike, genuine giggles were a privilege reserved only for his little dragons.

Sang is but a soldier, who should never meet his King in the eye. So he never did. It may be insolence, and he wouldn’t understand because of his country bumpkin origins.

He kept his eyes to the King’s steed as the man himself began to walk toward the palace. He would then pass this horse to a servant, who would lead it back to the stables, that was routine.

But as the leash falls into the servant’s hands, Sang sensed movement.

Abrupt movement, from a soldier of their own.

Cutting through the file of servants, a figure without a helmet nor a scent seamed through with a sword in hand. 

He was moving fast, he was a trained soldier, but not quite a trained assassin-- (he didn’t smell of fire or blood or smoke. He had come here for one purpose only,) a sharp roar ripped from his throat as he plunged his blade forward.

Hiryuu swirled around at the noise, barely in time to see blood spray across the palace walls.

Sang choked on the blood that bloated in his throat. A sword embedded in his chest, gouging through his left side from the shoulder and devastatingly close to the heart.

His hands were firm on the other’s, one hand gripped steely on the man’s wrist, the other at the hilt of the weapon, pushing back uselessly in attempt to buffer the attack.

Hiryuu hesitated, “Sang--?!”

The next moment, Guen’s hand breaks into the scene, shoveling across the assailant, and flinging him into a wall so harshly there couldn’t have been bones left unbroken.

The sword ripped out of him, Sang collapsed. Doubling over, he retched up the blood that filled his mouth, but his pipes, swollen from infection, failed to ease.

For a long moment, there was nothing but his heartbeat, strong, long, slow. Thrumming in every nerve agonizingly, he barely noticed his lack of breath.

There was also the bright, eerie liquid that gleamed a bright red across his hands. It reminded him of King Hiryuu’s beautiful hair, and he almost marvelled at it before it sank it that this was blood, and it was his own.

The sunlight is too bright for him, flashes of white and black blinking in and out of vision. The cacophony of panic is too loud for him. There’s a crow screaming in his ear, and he almost tells it to shut up, only to find out he can’t.

He can’t-- move, at all.

It’s like his limbs have fallen aside, draped to the ground like a marionette on broken strings. His mouth gurgles with blood he no longer has the strength to hack out. 

The noise around him sounds oddly like his name. 

“Sang, hold on, don’t give up yet! Stay with me! Stay awake!”

He’s not too sure why.

His vision swings as someone seems to shake him, but his eyes drift to close before he can think better of it. 

“Sang!!”


	2. "Broken Statue"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sang never loved his village. Sang hated them. They hated Sang.
> 
> (Noo-ri hated it too.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn! I didn't expect this to get so many hits so quickly tbh, thanks so much!

_ **Umma, why must I wear a dress?** _

"_You'll understand when you’re older, Noo-ri,_” his mother would always tell him, and he would pout, knowing that this was a dismissive, non-committal answer.

He never received one.

_ **Umma, why can’t I play with the other boys?** _

Her son wanted a friend, because all the girls in the village were boring to him. But his mother would rub his head soothingly and insist, “_because they’re training to be soldiers, Noo-ri. You shouldn’t disturb them._”

_ **Then, umma, why am I not a soldier too? I’m a boy.** _

“_If you become a soldier, Noo-ri…”_ his mother wrapped her thin, body arms around his small figure, pulling him closer to her chest. She spoke her next words so sadly, “..._they’ll never give you back. Umma’s really lonely, dear. Would you take care of me?”_

ー

The child brings his hands up to touch the statue, wondering what it was made of. It was smooth like marble, and he knew how expensive that was.

This was probably the most expensive thing in their calm village.

There wasn’t a soul that wanted to steal it, though. Not a guard to protect this treasure. Everyone respected the statue and children were taught to see it as a hero.

  
  


“Are you interested in the statue, little girl?”

And there was the Uncle from the Fountain, who always had an erhu in his hands. Noo-ri remembered him-- he would always draw a crowd of children, boys and girls, and he would begin to tell them stories of the Red Dragon and his cowardly servant.

Noo-ri didn’t bother to correct him-- enough people have mistaken him as a girl, especially since he wore a civillian hanbok every day. 

His hair was long too, hatefully dark waves stretching far too long against the middle of his back. His mother didn’t allow him to cut it, even when he told her all the other boys were cutting theirs.

  
  


“You see that golden crack, little girl?” the man spoke, and Noo-ri listened intently.

His eyes were drawn to the statue’s shoulder, where, through the thick stone, a fissure through his left was mended in sheer gold.

Noo-ri remembered the last time the man had told them the story-- didn’t this cowardly servant die from a wound to his shoulder?

“Nearly ten years ago, one night…” the man spoke reverently, and Noo-ri realized he was in for another story time. “It had been a terrible, terrible storm. And the thunders roared, lightning struck-- it hit the statue and split it apart at the crack of midnight.”

(On the night of Noo-ri’s birthday, his mother had whispered to him.)

“Struck by a prophetic visual, Lord Yeon-ga told us that the soldier had spun through the cycle of rebirth, and will be reincarnated among us,” now the storyteller reached up to the statue, not touching it for it was so treasured he couldn’t dare to, “he declared the statue holy, and welded it in gold to retain this knowledge as a mission for our village.”

A mission? Noo-ri didn’t understand.

This servant was weak, cowardly, and couldn’t even fight well. 

He had saved King Hiryuu one fateful day, and in his name his village, which had been impoverished, lived through the famine. 

He had done nothing special in particular-- all soldiers fought for their king, that was not news. The only reason he was revelled so highly was because the village was drowning in drought and this gave them fame.

Yet they had erected a statue of him and now he was holy?

It wasn’t as if he was a legendary dragon warrior.

For a minor lord of this great country, Lord Yeon-ga was a bold man to dare prophesy such a thing. It may be regarded as desecration to the old legend...

The storyteller folded his fingers into a prayer, “birthmarks are a sign of a past life’s dying injuries,” he recounted, “so one day, we believe a baby will be born unto us, a boy with that same scar running down his shoulder. And he will bring this country to prosperity.”

Noo-ri closed his fist over his dress, and looked up at the statue.

To the statue’s blank eyes, and uncharacteristically brave expression carved into his features. To the armor of a soldier he wore, and the sword he held before him, blade in the ground like a praying guard.

Engraved under his feet was his name, **Sang**.

But Noo-ri knows that this is anything but what he was, what he represented. His arms were too thick-- Sang had no muscles to show, and his wrist was so much thinner.

Intricate designs were scattered across his armor, but Sang always wore the most run-down gear. He never really wore a breastplate or shoulder guards. He was a rear soldier, after all, why waste steel on him? It’s how he died in the first place-- he had paper defense.

This statue was nothing like him.

Sang would have never been happy to don armour or hold a sword. Sang was a coward-- not a servant as the stories have warped through history-- he was a soldier that neglected his training, and loitered around the king, doing servant jobs even when he was not supposed to. 

Sang was a coward, and that was it.

Noo-ri turned to the storyteller and smiled, wordlessly thanking him for the story-- then he turned around and simply left without another word, the groceries in hand crinkled through the bag.

“You’re welcome, little girl.”

And Noo-ri, once he was out of sight, would sigh against the sky that wasn’t blue enough, and in his heart and without a cry, he would mourn.

Mourn because Sang had never wanted himself to be raised and honoured so highly, given horrid praise through a corrupted story that reeked of soldier propaganda.

Sang was a pacifist, after all.

But now, his village had boys as young as five years old admiring the army, and entering academies at six years of age, simply to train and fight with weapons with dreams of being a soldier in the capital of Kouka.

Sang would've cried, sobbed, and killed himself just to know what nightmare he had caused.

And Noo-ri would too, if only his mother wasn't in such dire need of his presence.

  
  


Noo-ri stepped into his house, placing the groceries down before greeting his sickly mother in her room. He found himself before a mirror-- and instinctively, he reached out to it.

He pulled the collar of his blouse aside, to inspect the deep birthmark that ran down his left shoulder. It was identical to the golden rupture in the statue, and has only grown with his body.

_If they find me, I’ll become the heir to the throne._

It finally made sense now, not that he'd suspected any less.

No wonder his mother dolled him up like a girl and hid him away from everyone. 

Sick and widowed as she was, she didn’t want her only son to be taken away from her so early, trained into a military robot, and manipulated by the lord's advisors.

Noo-ri couldn't really blame his mother for keeping it a secret from him, either. She probably thought that this ten-year-old wouldn't understand yet. 

If only Noo-ri had a way to tell her that he was much older than she believed him to be, in his head.

  
  


Noo-ri looked no different from how Sang actually looked. But no one could tell, because the statue was a warped imagination and they would never imagine that this girl was the prophesied child.

Noo-ri seethed, knowing he must have been reincarnated for a reason. (Sang never loved his village. Sang hated them. They hated Sang.) And seeing how this village had made Sang a ridiculous form of propaganda, Noo-ri hated it too. But,

(Is my king here too?)


	3. "Turning Point"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noo-ri hated his village.
> 
> The lord's dethroning only made it worse.

Noo-ri didn’t quite remember the moment everything went to hell.

One moment, Lord Yeon-ga was presenting his oh-so-charismatic speech to the masses-- and the next, his head rolled on the ground.

Noo-ri stood in the crowd, eyes wide and mouth hung agape.

Someone screamed, and time moved again. Someone was hollering, barking desperate orders, while the weaker of the crowd panicked like madmen, running from the mansion.

Those were fools. Where could they go?

Noo-ri could’ve laughed, because all those proudly trained soldiers buckled their knees and let it happen, because they were too scared to defy.

In less than a day, the old monarch was overthrown.

The new ruler, Lord Jang-woo, calles for a census, and Noo-ri’s world turned on its side, rupturing every sore bone and setting it all aflame.

-

Conscription was forced upon them, and every man above the age of six had to attend primary education to lead to knighthood. Every able female was to work in the factories and live through tough labour, making weapons.

Lord Jang-woo was preparing for war.

After all, their country was small but motivated and there was a nice other village beside them that would undeniably stand no chance. But Lord Jang-woo aimed higher. Higher than anyone thought they could fight, but idealism was strong.

Against who and for who was this done? No one really knew. Merchants who used to trade with them were attacked upon entry, and no outsiders were allowed to visit any longer.

The new lord was a madman, even more so than his predecessor.

The fever of pro-war propaganda was only growing, and his mother’s sickness only crescendoed. He couldn’t leave her, she needed him.

So Noo-ri tucked in the sash of his dress, and walked out of his house each day to work with the girls. Avoiding inspections and dodging gender-prone questions to avoid being found out. It was risky, but he had little choice.

Each day he cursed the statue further. They’ve gone as far as to inspect the boys of the village in case they had been hiding the birthmark all along. The more lecherous of the guards, have used it as an excuse to harass the girls of the village.

They only grew more depraved each day, and Noo-ri burned with fury. It wouldn’t be long until they found him out. First for his gender, then for his scar.

And looking at the new lord, Noo-ri had a dreadful feeling that they wouldn’t want him to be a soldier anymore-- they might very well just kill him altogether. 

(As an example of what comes after defiance.)

He couldn’t stay here.

-

It was late into the night. The moon rose high and ominous in the darkness, full and round. A needle for self-defense tucked in his bun, he padded his way toward the river, fresh clothing in his hands. 

With taxes raised and funds collected for mobilisation, resources ran short. Sang knew that soon enough, they’ll begin to discard the sick and elderly because they couldn’t hold their weight in this town. 

Noo-ri was going to stay here if his life depended on it.

His mother needed him. His mother needed him. At least, in her final days-- he wanted to treasure her. He wasn’t going to let a tyrannical ruler stop him.

His hand moved to his sleeve-- and suddenly, someone is beside him, and a hot arm took him by the wrist, dragging him aside. 

He blinked, and he was shoved against the rocks, out of view from the village and expertly covered from the light. Noo-ri didn’t need to see to know what was happening. Calloused hands, the heavy silhouette of steel gear-- 

Looks like some patrol-skipping soldier decided to get a whuff of bathing girls.

Pervert.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty one?” his voice was a little above a whisper. He kept a hand firm as stone, on Noo-ri’s wrist to hold it above his head-- the other locked tight around the she-male’s jaws. 

This left his top half open, bare skin in full view. Thankfully, his right shoulder was showcased, not his left, so the man didn’t see the scar.

Not for long, though, if she let this happen.

Noo-ri found the man’s eyes in the darkness, and scowled out a glare. 

“I’ve heard of you, you’re the girl that can’t talk for the life of her,” he made a laughing sound, “that means you can’t scream and that works out well for me.”

Noo-ri wasn’t a stranger to these situations. He tugged at his trapped arm and couldn’t move an inch of it even if he wriggled. He had a free hand, but curses, it wasn’t his dominant hand. It could do little except weak pounds against his shoulder.

He couldn’t risk retrieving the needle in his hair now-- it would get deflected too easily.

Sang was held down like this before, too. It stopped after he started dressing like a boy, so maybe this situation was kind of ironic--

“Be nice.”

A grubby hand moved to his chest, and Noo-ri twisted his neck around and bit down on the hand around his face. This startled the man, and Noo-ri nabs the chance to free himself. He drops down, pries the needle off his bun in one smooth motion, and plants it through the man’s left boot.

He howled, loud and low and full of curses.

He swung his arms, but Noo-ri swerved to dodge them, easier this time. He scooped behind him to steal his sword, then retreated closer to the river to be out of reach. The sword was heavy but it was a familiar weight. Holding it gave him a rush of nostalgia, and a part of him wanted to swing it just to test the waters.

His gaze empty and his features blank, he watched the man writhe, agonized and vainly trying to pry the needle from his foot-- too far into skin, crushed through bone, how could a girl have such strength?

Noo-ri remembered Sang. Sang was pathetic. A coward, weak, and always reliant on everyone around him. 

Noo-ri wasn’t.

Noo-ri was not going to be.

-

Sang was trained under Shuten, of the four warriors, and he was the most skilled in a bladed weapon. 

Even after dying and living fourteen years complacent and being the girl he wasn’t, his heart and his soul remembered the routine, the moves, and the training drilled into his core.

Killing a man and throwing him in the river was easy.


	4. "Final Straw"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He endured.
> 
> Then he couldn't.

When mother passed away, Noo-ri cried, but not because she was gone.

The sun was scorching that day, an irritable burn against his skin as he clawed against the too-hard soil. His nails were cracked and stuffed with mud-- truly, this was completely unbecoming of a lady. 

The only thing he could use as a grave were three stones from the river beside it-- they were white, and shone. They were pretty, mother would have liked it.

_ What a fucking joke. _

“Noo-ri,” someone said behind him, shadow cast over his figure, “if you’re done over there, you should hurry back.”

He crunched the last of the overturned soil in his hands into the ground, flattening it nicely with his palms, then squeezing the stone into the little mound in hopes that it would stay in that spot for long enough.

_ What a fucking joke. _

He stepped over to the river, and rinsed his hands through. He cringed as the cold seeped into the broken flesh of his nails, stinging sharply like little stabs and bites. 

Straightening his skirt, he turned in the direction of the village, and for a second he doesn’t go in that direction.

For a second, he considered running in the opposite direction, and never looking back. He would go in there and enter Xing territory, and wait for either the guards or some lowly stranger to find him and maybe not kill him.

_ What a fucking joke. _

He returned to the village, and he continued working.

Continued working for the cruel ruler who wouldn’t spare a bit of medicine for a poor old woman on her deathbed. Wouldn’t even allow the pitiful little daughter, barely fourteen, to bury that diseased body inside the village. So she had to come to the river in the outskirts, and gouge out a barely capable hole on her own.

**_If you have time to mourn_**, that person dared to snide, **_do some work while you’re at it_****.**

What a fucking joke.

Noo-ri looked at Sang’s statue, standing proud and yet no one had time to really look at him, no one had time to listen to the _ real _ stories about him-- and he almost, _ almost _ screams at him-- you died for your king, you died for your kingdom.

So why is the world in shambles?

**What a fucking joke.**

-

“You want to escape?” 

When she heard that, she thought he was mad. A group of girls in the basement of their town hall, they were supposed to move crates to store gunpowder in this space for storage. 

The girl Noo-ri was closest to, her name was Da-hee. She was strong and she was charismatic. She could drag the whole group up with her teeth if she needed to, and through her words alone, not a single girl complained about the harsh labour.

Actively, Noo-ri signed to her and hoped she would understand.

She didn’t.

“I know you’re upset about what happened to your _ Umma _ ,” she reasoned with him, speaking in the casual slang for _ mother _, “but medicine is running short in Fire Tribe Lands. Using fever and cough medicine on her would mean the younger kids won’t get to use it too.”

And as excruciatingly _ unfair _ as the phrasing was, she was right.

Fire lands were a place where sickness came easily. Whether it be from the harsh sunlight, the dry lands, or the neglect of the Fire Tribe General in supervising these conditions.

If they buried that body in the village, when they still didn’t know what kind of sickness it was-- what if it affected the crops? They couldn’t risk such a thing. It was a miracle he wasn’t forced to burn it. 

They were a poor region of the country, after all.

And all their general cared about was their military might. In a way, the lord of this little village was exactly the same. Was this the Fire Tribe mentality? How sickening.

Lord Hiryuu would have never wished for this. He would be miserable to know that his descendant land fell this way. 

“And besides, Noo-ri,” Da-hee put an assuring hand on his shoulder (his left shoulder, his scar) and smiled. “We’re only so weak because of the Sky Tribe! They have such lavish conditions, and yet-- they don’t even _ try _ to help us.”

King Il was widely despised around these parts. Couldn’t he see? We’re suffering here, please lend us your aid! And he would shut the door, and never hear a thing. That may be because he never leaves the palace at all.

(Though, Noo-ri may never know how much of that sentiment was warped, and how much was the painstaking put-right-out-there truth.)

“For your _ Umma _, and everyone else that’s sick and dying right now,” she held his hands carefully, calluses warm against smooth skin-- she looked at him sadly, pitifully, and broke out in a soft sob, “let’s win this war for them, Noo-ri.”

Sometimes, Noo-ri could see where she was coming from. He would sympathize and be enchanted by her words, because _ she understood _ , and _ she’s right, you know? _ And now that his heart was so hurt and so weakened, he needed someone to put all this hatred on.

_Turn your hate toward the Sky Tribe_, that was the sentiment now, _everything is their fault. It’s their fault we’re so poor and helpless and full of sick. They live in luxury while we starve in drought. It’s only natural that we finally bite back, because this injustice has gone on long enough._

If it had been anyone else, Noo-ri may have fallen for it.

But he knew better. 

He found himself clearly hearing the bullshit in the beauty. It was sheer charisma, and held no sense-- so it took all he had in him to not throw up right there.

How could they have fallen this far?

How could the world be so _ disgusting _?


	5. "Running Away"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He ran.
> 
> To where? Well, that would come only now.

Noo-ri ran.

There was nothing left for him here. Not his mother, not his friends, (were they friends? Those girls just stuck together with him because in this town, you just ended up being around those of the same gender more often the otherwise) not even the love for his village urged him to stay there.

He served only one King.

This was Fire land. This was where King Hiryuu’s blood ran down the line. And yet-- and yet, there was nothing to love here. Noo-ri could tell so vividly that his king was not here. His king was no longer here.Even the air was repulsive here. 

This is not his place to be, he realized. 

_ This is not where I have been born again to live. _

Sang was not a Dragon Warrior. Noo-ri was not any different-- they were simply outsiders in the folklore, a side hero who would live as nothing more than a fallen soldier with a testimony. 

Noo-ri had nothing on him. He could not bring food-- rations were gathered and supplied daily, no one had any in their own house. He stole arrows, bows-- and bombs, in small amounts.

He lifted the chest under their attic and found a shortsword the length of his forearm-- it was the only thing left of his father, or so his mother told him so long ago. 

A dagger for battle. 

His father was not a soldier. This was a blade that could be hidden under a sleeve, and wasn’t sharp or wide enough to fight in a warzone-- so his father had most likely been a stealth warrior. A combat spy.

Noo-ri tucked the blade under his sleeve. He only had a small pack-- because if he looked too ready to leave, he would be caught too soon.

When work was done for the day, he led a fuse out of the artillery chambers. 

When no one was looking, he struck the pick against the ignition and when no one was aware, he flung it into the arsenal that held _ years _ of gunpowder stores.

His last memory of his village was of the fire that burned it to shreds.

He fled the village, but not in any particularly flamboyant manner. When the moon rose too high, and the river flowed too soundlessly-- Noo-ri simply trailed to the river-- and climbed over the other side, into the forest.

His walk was calm, casual. If anyone saw him, they never stopped him.

-

It wasn’t as if Noo-ri knew where to go.

Quickly, he realized that was a bad idea. He had been so focused on getting out, getting away, _ leaving _ , that he forgot something as simple as _ where now _?

Amateur mistake. But no issue.

He couldn’t find himself any food, but being a village child had its perks. He found fruits and berries where he could, and left the rest to the gods above. He was not a priest, so all he could do was pray, and thank them when he lived another day, hoping they could hear him.

Perhaps, his presence hadn’t meant that much to his village after all. 

No one came after him, as if no one had even noticed he’s left. It would make sense, knowing the chaos he left behind.

Or perhaps, they have noticed and branded him a traitor-- perhaps even executing some of his closer peers as a warning to the rest. Or they’ve left them be-- they needed workers, after all. None were really expendable at the moment.

Maybe if he entered other villages, he would find wanted posters of himself. It would be worth it, he thought.

But it had only been three days since. He couldn’t say for sure just yet.

He brushed aside the dust in his dress, and deeply wished he could exchange it for something better. Something easier to move around in. He wished he had trousers to change into before he left, but there had been none.

He did not enter any other villages in the Fire Tribe. He did not look like a traveler and did not look like a peddler. And he could not speak to conjure a story, so it would be a risk he was reluctant to take.

He would have to escape to another Tribe’s lands.

And the closest one from here was the Wind, beyond the mountains.

And he considered it, oddly melancholic at the thought. To be escaping from Fire lands and entering Wind lands-- hadn’t he experienced this before?

When Sang escaped his village to join Shuten’s army, perhaps.

After all, Shuten always felt more like home than home ever did.

-

_ “If you follow the river, you’ll reach the Sky Tribe.” _

Who was the one that said that, he wondered-- it couldn’t have been old memory, because the Sky Tribe lands were left behind by Lord Zeno, who never left.

Maybe it was the storyteller-man.

His village was on the border of Fire Tribe lands, adjacent to the river. If he followed it, he would find himself in Kuuto, the imperial palace. If he crossed it and distanced himself from it...he would be in the mountains.

The mountains were harsh on a single child in light clothing.

He never had enough water, so he took frequent breaks and stayed in the areas with shade. When he found a spring, he would drink sparingly and fill up his goatskin sack.

His time as a soldier of Shuten’s faction taught him survival instincts. Some trees had consumable sap and others were edible weeds. 

Most of all, he knew that if he bided his time and maintained an easygoing demeanor, he could go on without the mental tax taking its toll.

The most important thing in a journey without a goal, was to keep his head.

He found himself at the topmost of a great height, so he sat down to look. There were many more towns than he could grasp to count. Clouds were white, curled in intimately with the towns that from here, looked only quiet.

The skies were blue. Not the blue of the Blue Dragon’s silhouette-- but the blue of love, and the blue of their smiles, last time he’d ever seen them.

It was blue, like beauty.

Standing at the edge of the world, he realized how drastically things had transformed from so many centuries ago. There were less mountains, and so much more mist. What was the world trying to hide from? Was it ashamed of itself, that it now had parts of itself it dared not show?

Did the dragons still exist?

It wasn’t as if Lord Hiryuu ruled the Fire Tribe. It would be preposterous to imagine Lord Shuten ever settling down. No-- they must have descended and passed on the torch of blood and ruling.

The Dragon Lords Sang had served no longer exist. Surely, if they existed now, they would be different people. Or were they like Sang, who had reincarnated but hold the same will, same resolve?

Somehow, he did not think that was likely. Their job to protect Hiryuu was done. _ Unless _… unless Hiryuu himself, was reincarnated too.

What if he were to seek them out from here? Would he find them? Would he be able to reunite with them?

A strong wind carded through his hair, and Noo-ri braced his feet on the ground, baring the buffet that scattered his hair and ran his dress into disarray. 

He avoided falling from his precarious position atop the cliff-- but this time he looked out, there was a new question in the skies.

_ Would they still want me around? _

After all, he was simply the tea boy.


	6. "They See"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noo-ri doesn't go unnoticed.

“Ah, Yoon! You should wear a mask, the air’s getting worse these days,” an older man called out as he saw the young boy with a basket of clothing.

Yoon raised an eyebrow, “bad enough for there to be an official notice from the village head?” he asked.

“Yes,” the man responded, “we considered moving, but you know how the tribe is… even if we move, there’s nowhere better.”

And Yoon sighed. “It’s all because of that pyromaniac two villages over,” he scoffed, “can’t she think of the consequences of everyone downwind? What if it affected the rivers?”

Just a few days ago, a great fire caused a ruckus through Fire Tribe lands. A little village, but one that focused its military on weaponry production— one such village was targeted and set on fire. 

Gunpowder erupted in an endless chain, creating bombs, landmines, and an endless fiery hell for those that lived there. All of their stocks were lost, and half of the forest surrounding them were seared to the ground.

The woman who was responsible for it had run in the night, leaving hundreds of casualties in her wake. 

Yoon could never be happier than years of military preparations were foiled— but the smog and gas of the explosions lingered. Haze filled the sky, making it grey, thick and polluted. Water had to be checked for signs ofoil before drinking. Crops wilted and forest animals became agitated.

Yoon could not hate her more than now, for putting his village at such risks. This village could not afford to be compromised in any way.

And the man mirrored his displeasure, casting a glance at the drawn wanted poster on the board, “though the war’s delayed, the army may start to conscript soldiers even all the way out here. That really doesn’t look good for us.”

Yoon perked up at that, “is Granny Hwa alright in this weather?”

“Well, she certainly isn’t getting better,” he said, nearly sarcastic, “I’m a young and able man, so if the army comes and takes me away-- she’ll be alone.”

Yoon closed his fist.

He felt the same way for Ik-soo, and nearly half of the stronger men in the village were already conscripted to the capital. What little they had left were the younger ones that barely made the cut to stay behind. If they came again-- they might even take Yoon, if Yoon didn’t hide at the edge all the time.

Yoon couldn’t imagine leaving Ik-soo.

Yoon couldn’t imagine leaving his village, not in this trying time.

And he didn’t even know who to blame. The Fire Tribe General? That pyromaniac who was too selfish to realize that she was doing more harm than good? King Il, who still wasn’t helping them out at all?

Yoon fumed, and threw his anger into the river with the clothes he still needed to wash.

Nothing to do but endure.

-

Zeno was just waiting a little longer.

From the distance, he saw his little princess grow up, and he smiled when he saw the Green Dragon soar in the skies. The White Dragon hid behind the mist, but Zeno knew he was lively as ever. The Blue Dragon was never to be seen, but there was a calm in his heart that set Zeno at ease.

He roamed the lands, as he always did. 

He trailed through the forests, with no true goal in mind. He did not eat if he did not remember to eat. There was little to do with eternity, so it was his luck that he’s learned how to observe for hours.

Sitting still on a tree branch, he watched the girl who lay in the crook of a tree trunk, wrestling in a fitful sleep.

She had settled there the night before, not realizing Zeno’s presence. 

There was something about her that made Zeno look twice.

Perhaps it was her hair that strange shade of brown he could only see in the light, and looked black otherwise. Her dress was simple and nothing at all extravagant. She wore no expensive jewels and held herself with no grace— just Might.

It wasn’t as if Zeno thought they were a strange case… a girl without femininity. After all, even the most masculine of girls have an ingrained sense of beauty inside of them. For someone to have none at all… was she perhaps a man?

(Ah, if he said that out loud he would get punched, right?)

Zeno couldn’t help but stare. After all, it would be bad if she got attacked whilst in her sleep… she was so defenceless. Zeno decided to stay, just to make sure she had some rest. 

She stank of smoke and was caked in dust. She must have come from the Fire lands. He’s heard of the fire there. 

(So she was the one who caused it?)

How reckless, he thought. Not many would bother with such a risky feat. She was now wanted by everyone in her blood and everyone that once knew her.

Why would someone throw all that away? Zeno couldn’t really imagine. Even Zeno treasured his bonds dearly.

(I wonder what her name is.)

With eyes as kind as a mother, but as serious as a hunter… She was a warrior, no doubt— despite the fragility she exuded, she had strength. 

She was meek, and yet… Zeno couldn’t help but sense the familiarity in those features. 

He reminisced of a boy, so small so long ago, with him a set of thin wrists. A backhanded grasp on a blade… Hair as brown as milk tea.

(A voice no one hears.)

The girl roused from her sleep. Zeno stood from his spot, turned, and hid in a higher branch.

He watched the girl survey the area she was in, greeting each frame of a leaf like it was a tender child. She picked out a vine and bound her sleeves up near her shoulders to ease movement. 

She then hiked up her  _ chima _ , tying it in a bundle to the side. Now her knees were free.

Zeno stared for half a moment then hastily turned away, realizing that was rude of him.

To expose your arms and legs in a forest like this… he wondered if the girl knew what she was doing at all. 

Zeno looked on a little worriedly-- after all, what kind of man was he if he let a girl like that walk on alone? Well, the ever-so gentlemanly Guen would roll over in his grave.

The girl took a deep breath-- and to Zeno's surprise, she  _ smiled _ \-- as she made her way up a tree. 

Zeno shrank a little further into his tree to avoid being seen, but he couldn't help but be in awe of how quickly the girl climbed up, branch after branch, as if she had done this plenty of times before. 

She settled at the topmost, and looked out.

The way she smiled, so joyfully up there-- it made Zeno remember the old days where he could smile so brightly too. 


	7. "He Changes"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living in the wild is somehow freer.
> 
> He lets himself fly.

As a girl, Noo-ri lived his life reserved and holding onto the comment sense of a girl.

If you wore a skirt, you don't climb trees. The fabric would get in the way anyways, and most definitely your arms wouldn't be strong enough. The loose sleeves would be a menace. If you got too many scratches on your hands, it would impede your work.

No one wanted blood-stained clothing or foods, after all.

In his past life, climbing trees were drill number one of Shuten's faction. They spent weeks simply climbing trees until they could do it in their sleep, to prepare for ambushes and scouts. It was second nature to him, but he had to hold back on it as a girl.

But now, he was no longer tied to girlhood. He was no longer bound by gender borders. Now he lived in the forest-- so he had to act like a man even if he didn't want to, simply to survive.

And he loved it.

He hiked up his skirt, baring his pale thighs. How vulgar, but who was there to see? He tugged his sleeves to his shoulder. How uncouth, but did it matter?

The heat can burn him. The wood can scale his skin, and he would be perfectly fine with it.

He did not care for injuries. He did not _need_ to care for scars and wounds anymore.

He was _free_.

Looking out into the world as if it was his first time realizing that fact, a smile bloomed onto his face and he laughed.

-

Taking his blade and gathering his hair into a ponytail, he leaned the blade into the bundle and lopped it right off.

He could still tie the top half of it, so it wouldn't look too much like an explosion of curls, but it was much less of a hassle now. It was messy and needed trimming, but he would take what he got.

He grasped a handful of fallen hair, when he realized something.

_His hair was brown._

It was a peculiar shade. it was dark enough to pass for black, but when he looked closer into each lock in his hands, it was undeniably _brown_. He had never noticed, it was a small but visible difference.

Had everyone else around him noticed this too? Then they would be able to track him if they found this bundle of hair. After all, it was a discernible trait.

His clothes, too. He would have to find the first place he could to change out of them, at least the colours. But they would recognize his face.

He can't afford to have people recognize him before he reached Wind Lands.

So he took his dagger, stood over the river-- he pointed the blade to his face and took a deep breath.

He had just enough clean cloth left over to bind a wound, after all.

-

Being a rogue was easy when you had the memories of a soldier drilled into survival. It was tough to avoid the fire tribe civilians when he wandered too near a village, and his clothes inevitably stank, but he lived frugally for a few weeks without too much trouble.

He wondered how long he had been in the forest.

The mountains never seemed to end, the forests seemed eternal after days of nothing but it. His feet were tired from days of scaling walls, and the lack of care was taking a toll on his fingers.

Occasionally he would turn around, sensing a follower in his tracks. But he would find no one, and dismiss it as a passing wind.

Setting up traps and eating forest animals, he got used to living in the forest.

Maybe he should just live here from now on… no, he wouldn’t survive the winter. But it was fine for now-- after all, the hardest part was just getting started.

Standing in the capital of Wind Lands, Fuuga, Noo-ri felt very small.

Every article of his clothing was caked in dust. He wore a cloak over his head to hide his face, but as he descended the mountain, he didn’t dare enter the city.

He just didn’t fit in with civilians right now.

So he trailed the borders, heading up towards the castle-- though, truthfully, he wasn’t too sure what he could do from there.

The amount of trees were comforting. Lord Shuten really loved tall places. The fresh air, the warm chatter of the city-- they were a peaceful sight one didn’t see in Fire Lands.

It was a beautiful city. As to be expected from Lord Shuten.

“Hold it, you suspicious fellow!”

And the world whirled back into motion. All of a sudden, guards encircled him, glaives in hand and voices booming loud.

Noo-ri flinched back against a tree, tugging the hood down over his face.

“Name yourself and your purpose here!”

Were they the guards? Then they must have had an eye on Noo-ri for a while now… Wind Tribe people weren’t known to be vigilant observers, after all.

Noo-ri looked around. Most of them were young-- but Noo-ri was too. They did not look like weak soldiers, so Noo-ri simply couldn’t charge through them…

He looked up.

“Boo,” a voice said above him, and Noo-ri squeaked soundlessly at the black-haired boy that was on the branch right above him. When had he climbed up there?

Falling to his bottom, Noo-ri tensed, realizing he had nowhere to run. Now what?

A blond among the guards stepped forward, speak behind him as he stared at the intruder rather curiously. He was as young and Noo-ri was.

He leaned uncomfortably (and so naively) close to Noo-ri, trying to see past the hood. Noo-ri tugged it down further so only his mouth was visible.

“What’s with you, can’t you talk?” he asked.

Noo-ri took the chance to furiously shake his head.

There’s a silence after that. He didn’t hear whispers, so he lifted the hood slightly so he could get an idea of the situation outside-- only to find all of them staring back at him from two inches away.

“Oh, I saw her face!”

“Her eyes are green... That’s just like Tae-yeon!”

“I couldn’t see the other side of her face… is she hiding more of it under there?”

“Well, at least she doesn’t look like a threat…”

Noo-ri shrank into himself, confused. One minute they were stern and glaring, now they’re treating him nicely? Is it because they think he’s a girl…? They sure have overly lax security… as expected from Lord Shuten’s descent...

Above them, the boy hollered, “you know Lord Mun-dok will get angry if we pick up another stray, right?”

(I am not a kitten!)

“Then are you going to leave her here, Tae-woo? You fail as a man!” someone called out, but there was no heat in his tone. Instead, it was playful and taunting. “Just look at her!” he gestured at Noo-ri as if it explained something.

Somehow, that made Tae-woo falter. “But,” he was flustered, “alright then, but _you’re_ going to tell Lord Mun-dok about this.”

Noo-ri sat there, not too sure what was going on.

“Now then…” attention was shifted back to Noo-ri. The one that spoke to him now was a light-haired girl with a kind face, “you, where did you come from?”

_Where did you come from?_

(Where exactly, he wondered, did he come from?)

Noo-ri looked up toward the sky-- and he reached a hand toward it.

(I come from the will of the gods above.)

The Wind Tribe guards exchanged curious looks. Then the girl smiled and took Noo-ri’s hands in hers, comfortingly rubbing against every chapped skin and rough callus.

“If you have nowhere to go… want to come back with us?”


	8. "Warm Wind"

"HUH?!"

Tae-woo very damn near turned the house upside down when he heard about it. He tripped over a raised plank and emptied a basket of dirty laundry on top of Han-dae.

"Yep," Ayame folded her arms as she promptly repeated, "she-- _he_, is definitely a boy."

Tae-woo and Han-dae looked utterly confused, so she repeated.

"The girl we picked up is a boy," she clarified, counting off her fingers as she listed other definitions of the word, "a guy, a male, a man, a dude, a not-female..."

Tae-woo flushed, "how on earth did you find out?! Did you _see?!"_

Han-dae covered his eyes without his fingers, "_did he have it?!_"

They freaked out, running circles around each other. Ayame blushed bright red, sputtering as she justified herself. Seriously, these boys always teased her!

"You absolute perverted _cretins!_" she swore at them, embarrassed, "of course I didn't! I wanted to help her-- _him_, change, then she, I mean _he_ told me himself!"

Everything stopped.

"He told you?" Tae-woo's confusion calmed him down. He put a hand under his chin as he contemplated, "so, she-- _he_ can speak after all?"

"Is she-he just shy?" Han-dae asked.

"Ah, no," Ayame told them, shaking her hand, "he didn't talk to me. He signed it."

Another moment.

"You know sign language?!" Tae-woo and Han-dae responded in disbelief.

"Geez, you two!"

-

It was decided that Tae-yeon, in all his adorable glory, would be the one to ease the newcomer out of their shell.

"Hey, pretty big brother, how old are you?" Tae-yeon pestered as the boy got changed into decent clothing, classic wind tribe male civilian clothes.

Noo-ri found the child endearing. Raising five fingers, one on his left hand and four on his right hand, he showed them to the child.

"One, four," Tae-yeon read them out, then brightened up when he understood, "fourteen? That's like Tae-woo and Han-dae!"

Noo-ri couldn't help the smile that bloomed onto his face.

Crouching down, still half dressed, he gestured toward Tae-yeon. Tae-yeon blinked back curiously-- then understood.

"Tae-yeon is four years old!" he declared proudly, raising four fingers.

Noo-ri patted him on the head for a job well done, then stood up to continue tucking in his inner wear.

The most simplistic wind tribe clothing-- a long sleeved inner shirt, a pair of trousers, and a coloured vest for those with a ranking. They were stiff, not the most luxurious, but were warm and easy to move in.

"Hey pretty mister big brother," Tae-yeon spotted something intriguing, "why are you covering your eye?"

Outside of the bath, Noo-ri replaced the makeshift bandage on his left eye with the waist sash, just to cover it up temporarily.

It had already healed, but it was ugly. That was the point, after all.

He peeled the cloth away from his face, and watched when Tae-yeon gaped. Was it out of horror or in awe? It was a little hard to tell.

He tied the sash around his waist. There, changing done. Now to look for something else to hide the scar. Noo-ri found a mirror, and looked into it.

Directly under his left eye was a scar, a horizontal line that stretched from the base of his nose before disappearing into his hair.

It was an ugly cut, marred with what looked like infection aftermath-- there were wrinkles scrunching up its surroundings, spreading into his eye and heading downward toward his chin.

Perhaps due to the infection, his eye had changed shades. The bottom half of his left eye was a very light blue, almost white, whilst the rest remained the green of his natural eyes.

"Hey pretty mister big brother," Tae-yeon approached Noo-ri, lifting his arms asking to be lifted up. For a child, he had a painfully compassionate expression on his face when he asked, "does that still hurt?"

Noo-ri picked the boy up, noting how light he was. He shook his head, and let Tae-yeon touch the disfigured skin, promising it wasn't painful to him at all.

Tae-yeon didn't look convinced at all.

-

He crouched down in seiza on his knees, and set his forehead on the ground.

Even without words, it was a clear gesture of gratitude, and he hoped they understood.

Lord Mun-dok was a wise, insightful man. He sat on his spot, but it was casual. He did not mean for there to be any sense of royal formality present-- he wanted Noo-ri to be comfortable.

Noo-ri set his hair so the left side of the fringe would cover up as much of his face as it could, to hide the disfigurement and the discoloration of his eye. They were repulsive, after all. He shouldn't show it off to people he wanted to respect.

The doors were open, and a few people looked inside, curiously.

Tae-woo and Han-dae stood by their grandfather, and Ayame sat between the two parties, patiently. Tae-yeon had deposited himself somewhere else.

"Don't worry about it, we pick up strays all the time," Ayame said cheerfully, breaking the icy atmosphere.

**_I really couldn't be so rude,_** Noo-ri signed back in response. **_You've clothed me, treated my wounds, and given me a bath... I must repay you somehow._**

"What's he saying?" Tae-woo cut in a little impatiently.

Noo-ri flinched. Ayame glared.

"He wants to show his thanks," Ayame translated, then turned back to Noo-ri, "I think the most polite thing you can do right now is to simply accept it, right?"

At that, Noo-ri fell silent.

Kindness was something he wasn't used to. Not in this life where only hardship has had him since birth. It's strange to think that people as warm as this existed.

"He can stay, right, Lord Mun-dok?" Ayame asked.

"That's right! He was dressed in girl clothes and was injured all over, we can't throw him back out," Han-dae added.

"Wait, we still need to know a lot of things," Lord Mun-dok held a hand up to calm the crowd, "what's his name? Where did he come from?"

Noo-ri straightened.

The world probably knew his name as a fugitive. There was no telling how the relationship between the tribes are now, with all the censorship that was in Fire Tribe lands. Noo-ri was blind to the current world, and so he didn't quite know how to act.

Would they be angered if they knew he was from the fire tribe?

Would they be kind enough to house him, knowing he was a fugitive?

**_My name is_**, he signed, then hesitated--

** _My name is Noo-ri._ **

"He says his name is Noo-ri," Ayame interpreted.

When Han-dae flinched, the others looked confused. Noo-ri fisted his trousers, nervous.

They were going to kick him out, weren't they? They evidently know him after the fire he'd caused... if there was a bounty, it'd be more profitable to hand him over to the Fire tribe to prevent war. He should've introduced himself as Sang.

"You know him, Han-dae?" Tae-woo asked when Han-dae looked positively freaked out.

"Wha-- of course I do! His face is all over the walls of the Fire Tribe's borders!" Han-dae gawked, "he's the crazy pyromaniac that set fire to Fire Tribe armory last month!"

The entire room goes quiet.

Noo-ri felt himself die inside.

Then Mun-dok burst into strangled laughter.

"Is that true?!" Ayame asked, and at the same time Tae-woo went "seriously?!" They looked at Noo-ri like he was a caged demon.

Noo-ri pursed his lips, looked away-- and nodded.

Mun-dok _roared_ with laughter.

"This is a riot!" he guffawed, "hey, everyone, let's have a feast! We've got another crazy one with us! We're celebrating!"

..._what?_


	9. "Being Home"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Revision 19/12 - About Noo-ri's village.**
> 
> Noo-ri's village was at the borders of the fire tribe, near the wind territory but too out of the way to be frequented. 
> 
> The "king" of that village was not exactly a king, but something of a minor lord that was put in charge of the area. Tyrannical as he was, he gave himself the title of a king and commanded the army as such. It was not bad nor illegal per se, just frowned upon.
> 
> The "vision" they received about Sang's statue and reincarnation was a priest's prophecy. This does not however mean he was a priest-- I base this assumption off priests and prophecies of the bible. Some people such as lords can get visions even though they aren't prophets, because 'god' bestows upon them a hope or a warning for the future. This is one of those scenarios.

“Hey, Sang,” Lord Shuten would find him seated at the edge of the cliff, and despite their positions, they would sit down side by side and enjoy each other’s company.

Sang would gesture, **_hi, hi_**, instead of a polite greeting.

It was custom in the faction that you greet each other casually in situations other than battle and official events. At first, people feared yelling ‘hey buddy’ at Lord Shuten, but eventually they started going ‘hey jackass’ at him instead, taking advantage of the rule.

It was funny and in many events preposterous, (Abi lectured them for an hour about it to no avail,) but everyone got close, trusted each other, and valued unity in teamwork. There was a reason Shuten’s faction was the strongest as a team.

(Though, it only made the losses harder to bear.)

“You’re not mute, are you?” Shuten had asked him.

It was a strange question. Sang had never spoken before. Never mustered a sound even through the toughest trainings-- there was just no voice in him.

“Just now-- when you were sparring with the General,” Shuten told him, “there was just one moment, when he hit you in the ribs with the spear-- but you made a_ sound_.”

Sang looked at him, utterly confused. What was he talking about? Sure, that had hurt-- he had broken a rib because of that, the General apologized profusely-- but Sang couldn’t make noise if he consciously tried.

(He couldn’t, not anymore.)

“One day,” Shuten told him, “I hope I’ll be able to hear you call my name.”

-

It was strange, to suddenly have a home after a month of living in the wild.

Now he sat on a chair, patiently waiting as Ayame trimmed his hair. The party had lasted through the entirety of last night, so he still felt sleepy.

He dozed off, and the moment he woke up, he made a strangled, soundless scream.

**_I can’t cover my face with this! _**He was near frustrated when his scar was in clear view of the mirror-- his bangs were even brushed back, setting his eyes in full, plain view.

Ayame just smiled at him innocently. Holding the comb proudly, as Tae-woo and Han-dae clapped, awed by the great result.

“You look cuter like that,” she insisted. “As for the scar, you did it to yourself so the world wouldn’t recognize you, right? It looks cool, so why don’t we make the most of it?”

Noo-ri turned away, embarrassed. He felt more assured with hair over his face-- but he guessed that had to change now. He was uncomfortable enough in foreign territory, but these guys were way too friendly.

“Now then,” Han-dae took his hand with a bright grin, “since that’s done, on to the next!”

Noo-ri was kind of hating this now.

-

“This is Noo-ri!” Han-dae introduced him to what seemed to be Wind Tribe training grounds, where a bunch of soldiers were training with spears, “he’s new and nervous, so break him in, ya folks!”

Noo-ri’s eyes inevitably lit up with interest when he was handed a spear. It was nothing compared to the magnificent glaive Lord Shuten held, but this was similar in quality to the grunt spear he held in his past.

The feel of every wooden rim against his fingers-- he spun it to his back, passed it from arm to arm, and tucked it under his elbows. Two steps to the left, a snap to the right, raise, flip-- and catch.

The wind danced with him, lead by the spear in an undeniably skillful movement.

(Ah.)

(Without a doubt, in spirit at least, Sang was a Wind child.)

He was smiling before he knew it. It’s the first spear he’s held in this life-- but his soul remembered the movements.

He drew it down in the final beat, and breathed out. Straightening himself, he swung it back, and tucked it behind him.

Someone clapped and cheered.

(He had an audience.)

“I thought you’d be an amateur, since you came from Fire,” Tae-woo mused, “but you seem pretty accustomed to the spear.”

Noo-ri flushed. He’d gotten too carried away by nostalgia that he’d forgotten about the situation. Did they think he was showing off? That would be a little embarrassing… Noo-ri was out of practice. Even at his best form he may be lacking in comparison to these soldiers...

“Wanna spar?” Tae-woo asked, and he was wielding a spear of his own.

Someone gaped in the background, and someone whispered something about how Tae-woo was the strongest in the Wind Tribe aside from their General, so Noo-ri tried to refuse.

He was not allowed to refuse.

And as expected, he lost.

-

Aunt So-yi was an old lady who lived around the area.

“There, hold onto those clothes, let’s head to the river.”

Noo-ri had a band-aid on the non-scarred side of his face, because Tae-woo was an idiot.

He was pushed to the jobs of the ladies just so he could rest up from his wounds. Ayame was busy today, but Aunt So-yi knew sign language, so Noo-ri just had to bear with the awkwardness.

“You’re really good at this, aren’t you? The boys in our tribe are hopeless in these menial tasks,” she talked through the job, “because they’re impatient and sometimes they tear the clothes instead of washing them! You’re a gentle boy, Noo-ri!”

A kindhearted old lady. It reminded Noo-ri of the time his mother was still alive-- of Da-hee from his village, when they were still nice and kind.

**_I lived as a girl_**, he signed, **_I do better as a woman._**

(In both this life and the last, it was all the same.)

(Rough men work never suited him.)

“Hmm, then you’ll fit right in!” Aunt So-yi smiled at him, exclaiming with joy. “In the Wind Tribe, we live freely. Bound by only the barest of rules-- we don’t let anything hold us down. Laws, norms, gender-- who cares, right?”

Noo-ri felt a warmth bloom in his chest, and it’s so sweet, he almost couldn’t bear it.

People so _kind_ really existed?

-

** _Why did you accept me?_ **

** _Would it not spell trouble for your relations with the Fire Tribe?_ **

** _Is it really okay?_ **

** **

Noo-ri was anxious. Mun-dok was drinking away during dinnertime, inviting Noo-ri over to talk about his first full day-- but Noo-ri was anything but comfortable right now.

Mun-dok didn’t understand sign language, but he could read enough of those ever-changing expressions to get the gist.

“You’re probably wondering why we’re not handing you over to the Fire Tribe, right?” he guessed, and Noo-ri nodded.

**_You did not need to do so much for a stranger_**.

“Well, I just felt like it!” he declared, and took another hard chug.

**_Please stop drinking you’re going to die_**.

“I never did like the Fire Tribe all that much. We’re at peace, but we disagree on many things…” Mun-dok told him, “they may view you as a criminal, but to many of us, you are a hero.”

Noo-ri stopped.

A hero? As if. He was just a little one, a coward, someone who ran away and hid, and is still hiding. He is free, because he discarded the destiny that the world, the _statue_ foretold. He was just a runner.

“You’ve delayed a civil war, most probably for another few decades,” Mun-dok spoke over his thoughts, “you may not see it, but you did the right thing. You thought so too, didn’t you? That’s why you did it, after all.”

**_It was nothing that noble_**.

He pursed his lips, looking downward, in continued shame.

**_I just lost my temper at them_**.

He didn’t particularly blow up that armory because he wanted to heroically prevent war or anything. He was just angry. He was angered by the corruption, mistreatment, neglect-- he just wanted petty revenge.

** _I am a coward. (A deserter.)_ **

** **

Mun-dok probably didn’t understand most of what he’d signed. But the man placed a warm, gentle hand on his head, and looked at him with compassionate, fatherly eyes.

“You’ve had it hard, haven’t you?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but it made the emotions well up in his chest, in a way that made him want to burst into tears, if only to be broken and vulnerable for once.

No one’s told him that, ever.

Not when his mother died. Not when the world was against him. Not when he put a knife into his own face. Not when he stayed alone in the forest for a month.

“But you are no longer of the Fire Tribe,” Mun-dok told him, “you now belong to Mun-dok, the hero of the Wind Tribe. You are now _my_ child, and I definitely won’t hand my own child over to the accursed Fire Tribe, would I?”

When Mun-dok looked down again, he spat out his drink.

Noo-ri was _crying_.

The entire dinner hall froze in its spot, pindrop silence overtaking the village as they saw the watery tracks running down the boy’s cheek.

All calm goes out the window.

“Lord Mun-dok made him cry!”

“Call the police! Lord Mun-dok made a girl cry!”

“No, that’s a boy!”

“Lord Mun-dok has committed a crime!”

“Call Lord Hak!”

“He’s in the imperial palace you doofus!”

“Lord Mun-dok has fallen! Lord Mun-dok has falleeennn!!”

And that’s how the night ended. Noo-ri crying his eyes out there, Tae-yeon beside him wailing too because that’s what kids do, everyone else in the dining room scrambling around for one irrational reason or another, and Lord Mun-dok vainly yelling at everyone to shut up so he could explain.

Peace? Maybe this was it.

And Noo-ri thinks he likes it.


	10. "Settle In"

Food in the Wind Tribe was warm and hearty. Not too luxurious, but filled with the taste of home.

(Even though this is the castle?)

For the first week or so, Noo-ri stuck to rice gruel and soft foods. Suddenly adapting from jungle life into civilisation would be hard on his stomach, so the Wind Tribe doctors advised him to be careful on consumption first.

But even the rice gruel was delicious.

(Maybe because this was the taste of love.)

“Are you bored of it now?” Ayame had been watching him eat, just to make sure he finished it all. “It’s fine though, the doctor said you could start having proper foods tomorrow.”

Noo-ri couldn’t help but brighten up at that.

But he hesitated, **_I have more than enough, _**he signed. Having too much of a blessing made him endlessly guilty.

Ayame only smiled back at that.

-

Compared to a normal wind child, Noo-ri was weak and thin.

Although the Wind Tribe were known as the tribe with the weakest military power, it was well acknowledged that the few exceptional soldiers weren’t to be underestimated.

“Our current general, Lord Hak, is considered among the strongest soldiers in the whole of Kouka,” Han-dae told him as a brief rundown of all the Kouka history Noo-ri had missed out on.

Noo-ri nodded, taking in the information patiently despite all the distractions. Tae-yeon slept on his lap, and Lord Mun-dok was yelling at some poor soul in the hallway.

“Second in line in the Wind Tribe is Tae-woo,” Han-dae continued expertly, as if the noise didn’t bother him at all, “but he doesn’t hold a candle to Lord Hak! Even in Sky Tribe standards, Tae-woo is a little above a common soldier, but that’s about it.”

(Tae-woo yelled from the other room, “hey I was _very_ close this time!”)

“The annual martial arts tournament is happening in two months. If you’re interested, we should all go together!” Han-dae inched closer, a bright grin on his face, “I can’t wait to introduce you to Lord Hak! He’ll love you.”

Noo-ri wasn’t quite sure how to deal with that. This was probably the first time he’s ever been told he was _wanted_ so blatantly…

Noo-ri nodded a little hesitantly, but there was a warm feeling in his chest.

He looked forward to it.

-

“Noo-ri, could you go run off to another tribe for about a week?” Mun-dok asked, arms folded and considering it deeply.

“What is that supposed to mean, Lord Mun-dok?” Ayame had a knife in her hands as she smiled, looking at her tribe general.

Han-dae hugged Noo-ri protectively, exaggeratedly sniffling as he whined, “you’re not taking him away from us!”

“That’s right, Grandpa, Noo-ri is ours now!” Tae-yeon wrapped himself around Noo-ri’s leg, declaring possession.

Mun-dok held his hands up in a frantic surrender, “wait, I can explain.”

Somewhere in the corner, Tae-woo sighed longsufferingly.

-

“So the Fire Tribe’s representative is coming over for a visit?” Han-dae repeated, “why all of a sudden? Do they know Noo-ri is with us?”

“No, it’s just what we do every few months between tribes,” Mun-dok explained with a sigh, “for the Wind Tribe as well, Tae-woo and Han-dae will be visiting the Earth Tribe.”

"Wait, I am?"

“It’s to ensure the five tribes keep in close relations with each other, so they meet up to chat about current affairs, exchange their local goods, and keep each other updated,” Tae-woo added on, “we went to one last year with Lord Hak, Han-dae, have you already forgotten?”

“Ohh,” Han-dae pretended to just remember, “that was before he left, right?”

When Noo-ri cast them a curious look, Tae-yeon latched onto the boy’s arm.

“Hak is my big brother!” he said proudly, “he’s the General of the Wind Tribe, but now he’s the bodyguard of a princess in Kouka Palace.”

“You kinda wish he’d come back sometimes, y’know,” Han-dae waved his hand dismissively, “that princess better be drop-dead gorgeous, since she’s stealing our Lord Hak from us for so long.”

“His job is a great honour, Han-dae,” Mun-dok chastised. “They have been close friends since young. He is comfortable there as well, so it is only natural he stays there.”

“You say that because _you_ get to see him every few weeks!” Han-dae grumbled, and Tae-yeon echoed in agreement.

** _Is it alright for the General of a tribe to not be in its lands?_ **

** **

Well, even the Dragon Warriors weren’t usually in their posts, because they primarily served at the Red Dragon’s side. But even so, there was usually a human warrior in charge.

“It’s fine, Gramps is here, right?” Tae-woo assured him, “Lord Hak doesn’t do much when he’s here, anyways.”

(Noo-ri is incredibly worried for the Wind Tribe’s future.)

“Enough of the gossip about Hak,” Mun-dok interrupted them, “the search for Noo-ri is still at large. It would be better for you to be away for a while to prevent any suspicions that would incite future investigation.”

Noo-ri looked away, a little saddened. It had taken a while for him to get used to the Wind Tribe, but would he have to return on the run soon? With the Fire Tribe still alarmed, the scar on his face would do little to turn away suspicion. They were probably looking for anyone around his age without a proper background, regardless of gender.

“Of course, I’m not chasing you away,” Mun-dok assured, “I want you to accompany Tae-woo and Han-dae to Chi’shin. Let’s just say you’re their servant.”

And that’s how Tae-woo got himself a pretty maid.

-

“Wouldn’t it be easier to be dressed as a boy?” Han-dae wondered, “they’re still looking for the _girl_ Noo-ri, right?”

“If he was a boy, Lord Geun-Tae would get interested in him. He pesters us enough because of Lord Hak, I wouldn’t want him to get any ideas about Noo-ri,” Tae-woo said. “Especially since Noo-ri handles the spear better than you, Han-dae.”

“He does?!” Han-dae sounded positively offended.

They made their journey on horses. Tae-woo with Noo-ri, Han-dae with the baggage they had to deliver. It would take two days to reach the Earth Tribe at their pace.

Noo-ri, dressed in girl clothing, sat sideways on the saddle because of the dress. He was uncomfortable, but bore with it. One day he’ll ride his own horse, he swears.

Being smaller than Tae-woo in size, he managed to sit quite snugly in between.

Speaking of which, Ayame’s old clothes fit him perfectly. He was going to become their dress-up doll one day and he can just _see_ it.

“You’re faster and I’m more versatile, but in terms of skill alone he’s on par with Lord Hak,” Tae-woo hollered to Han-dae as they galloped over a particularly rocky hill.

“No way!” Han-dae yelled back in denial.

“Well, Lord Hak would still single-handedly wipe the floor with all of us so I’m not sure if it matters,” Tae-woo said, “but Lord Geun-Tae has a taste and Lord Hak is one of them. We’re gonna try and get as far away from it as possible with Noo-ri.”

“You make Lord Geun-Tae sound like such a vile man,” Han-dae laughed, “you’ll get caught for heresy one day, Tae-woo!”

“Speak for yourself, Han-dae!"

Were they bickering? Noo-ri couldn’t quite tell. They had wide smiles on their faces, but their words were a little sharp. They were brothers, Noo-ri could tell… and they were close with each other in a way Noo-ri, a single child, could never know.

(Close, in the same way the four dragon warriors were to their king.)

He was a little envious.

(Fondly, he smiles at the sight.)


	11. "New Friend"

“What’s this? You kids finally got laid?”

“NO!”

Noo-ri had no intention to act like a lady, but Tae-woo and Han-dae shoved him behind them and hissed at the dark-skinned general, not allowing him to get too close. It wasn’t as if he was a damsel in distress. He could stab a general or two if he tried… probably.

“Lord Geun-tae, they may be children, but they are guests. Please refrain from your inappropriate innuendos.”

“What, Chul, you’re such a spoilsport.”

The advisor of the Earth Tribe General was a man called Chul-rang. Unlike the general himself, he had a good head on his shoulders. He stood confidently and spoke properly, though he looked positively annoyed.

“In the first place, Lord Geun-tae, is that what you should be wearing to greet guests?!” Chul blew up, “dress properly when you’re expecting guests!”

Lord Geun-tae pouted, looking away, “isn’t it fine, it’s just the kids anyway, it ain’t as if the King was coming or something.”

“As if you’d bother to dress properly if it was the king coming,” Chul groaned.

Han-dae and Tae-woo gritted their teeth at Guen-tae-- Noo-ri wondered if there was a little more story to that reaction-- before turning back to Noo-ri.

“If he _ever _comes any nearer to you, you have Lord Mun-dok’s permission to stab him,” Tae-woo said, entirely serious.

"After he almost stole Lord Hak from us one time, Lord Mun-dok isn't letting his guard down anymore around him," Han-dae added, "don't worry, he won't die if you just stab him once."

(Noo-ri feared for the future of the Earth Tribe.)

-

As a maid of the Wind Tribe, Noo-ri hid scar on his face with a cloth mask over the entire side of his face, including his eye. It obstructed his vision, but he would be in safe grounds, so it was fine.

“You guys will want to see the weapons, right? Then we’ll head there,” Geun-tae offhandedly decided, “the Earth tribe honestly ain’t doing so well this year, so we don’t really have anything new to offer this time around that isn’t traded...”

Noo-ri tagged along with Han-dae and Tae-woo as the Earth Tribe General brought them around the castle.

Then, he stopped.

The others kept walking, but he turned around-- there was an aroma in the air. A sweet, refreshing aroma, laced with the scent of flowers and peaches.

Noo-ri wandered toward the smell, and found himself before a garden of lush green.

His eyes (eye) sparkled with sheer interest-- because this, _this_, was definitely a tea plantation. It was definitely taken care of well. The earth was rich and the leaves were bright and healthy. Sunlight bounced off the frond, and dew, though faint, glittered like gems in the mid-morning.

“Who’s there?”

He jolted.

The voice belonged to a young lady, and she had been crouched in the bushes, overseeing the overgrowth-- she stood up to address Noo-ri, and Noo-ri stepped back, quickly jutting into a bow.

“This is the palace gardens, and you don’t seem to be an Earth Tribe maid,” the woman surmised-- by her fragrant and luxurious clothing, Noo-ri wondered if she was a lady-in-waiting. She didn’t look much older than he.

She was smiling, uncomfortably naive.

“You must be a guest, then!” she beamed, “Lord Geun-tae informed me that the Wind Tribe would be visiting, though I was not expecting a little lady. Are you interested in the tea plantations?”

Noo-ri felt himself shiver. What’s with this girl’s absolute innocence? She’s so pure, Noo-ri actually wondered if she would be tainted if touched.

“That’s right-- I’m Yun-ho,” the lady introduced herself, “may I know your name?”

Noo-ri’s throat tightened, and his hands froze up. Yun-ho, that was the name of Geun-tae’s wife. Right now, Noo-ri was talking to a lord’s mistress.

(Sign language was considered vulgar and rude. In the past, Sang learned the hard way that you should never speak to royalty with it without permission.)

(He wasn’t too sure about now. He only used it with Lord Mun-dok because Ayame said it was fine. What about the Earth Tribe? Surely they were different.)

“Why are you silent? Do you not have a name to give?” Yun-ho asked, genuinely curious.

Noo-ri swallowed nervously, failing to meet the lady in the eyes. He was in trouble. If he kept silent he would soon be considered an imbecile-- if he excused himself without answering, that would also be rude. What could he do now?

“Noo-ri!”

All heads turned to the intruding voice, and a blond figure raced from the palace walls and leaped into the gardens.

Han-dae cut into his field of vision, grabbing him by the shoulders in a panic, “where did you go? We told you to follow us carefully, didn’t we?!”

Noo-ri held back a soundless squeak as Han-dae raised his voice, looking absolutely frantic and incredibly concerned.

Noo-ri looked away guiltily, but failed to provide an answer.

“Han-dae, you find him?” Tae-woo’s voice came from afar.

“I found him! We’re in the garden…” Han-dae hollered back-- but as he turned around, he squawked at the sight of Yun-ho. “Lady Yun-ho?!”

Immediately, Han-dae was bowing down low.

“We deeply apologize for disrupting the gardens, Lady Yun-ho!” he panicked, “I cannot believe my insolence-- ah, we’re also sorry if Noo-ri has caused any sort of trouble!”

Now Noo-ri felt guilty, but honestly he was thankful. Now he wouldn’t be seen as rude if he didn’t respond.

(How did Sang deal with this again? Ah, right, he walked around with a sign that said “I am incapable of speech”, those were the humiliating days…)

“Eh-? No, it’s fine, she didn’t--”

“What’s wrong, Han-dae… oH My lord, Lady Yun-ho!” Tae-woo rushed over, saw the lady, and prompted tripped over his feet, stumbling onto his knees before he moved to bow lowly, “we deeply apologize for trespassing in your gardens!”

“Ah, you’re Lord Mun-dok’s protege!” Yun-ho said, brightly, “it’s fine, Lord Mun-dok has done the same thing many times as well.”

“I’m really sorry!” Tae-woo felt the desperate urge to say it again, for a slightly different reason.

Noo-ri hung around Han-dae’s back, looking as guilty as a scolded puppy. Brushing aside his bangs and readjusting the position of the mask on his face-- ah, maybe he missed Yun-ho’s figure because the cloth had obstructed his vision.

“So? What were you doing here, Noo-ri?” Tae-woo turned to the figure hiding behind Han-dae, “you’re supposed to be my servant, so you shouldn’t wander around.”

Noo-ri quickly raised his hands, waving it in a dismissive gesture of ‘no, I really didn’t mean to,’ but before he could sign anything else, Yun-ho made a sound.

A hum of sudden understanding, “could it be that you’re mute?” she asked, inching closer to Noo-ri and taking his hands in hers, “so that’s why you didn’t answer me!”

Noo-ri made a soundless squawk as he tried to escape, but would escaping be rude? Han-dae and Tae-woo were giving him the most suspicious looks they could. Oh, this was definitely going to become the gossip of the night when they go home...

She was smiling brightly, and approaching so obviously. She was evidently excited to find a girl friend, sparkling with excitement, “so your name is Noo-ri? It’s such a sweet name! Are you interested in the tea plantation?”

Han-dae and Tae-woo shared a look.

Noo-ri looked horribly flustered at the sunshine in front of him, but nodded at the right moments to respond. Yun-ho took him by the hand and led him around, showing him each section of the garden and telling him what grew where.

“That’s right! Shall we brew some tea?”

Noo-ri’s gaze evidently lit up at that, and Yun-ho didn’t miss it.


	12. "Pouring Tea"

“Sorry about that, Lord Geun-tae.”

“Nah, kids these days are curious! You sure brought a special one with you, huh?”

Tae-woo paused at that.

_This guy…_ Tae-woo kind of wanted to punch him, but he held back, _he definitely knows something is up with Noo-ri. Goddamit._

“I’m not sure what Mun-dok was thinking, but it’s better if you don’t bring that child around palaces as often as you probably do,” Geun-tae told them, opening a door to a particularly scenic veranda, “I mean, mute people can’t really live in the palace.”

At that, Tae-woo and Han-dae paused, confused.

They had walked almost the whole of the Earth Tribe Castle for now, so they were taking a break with some tea that Chul-rang promised to serve them.

None of them had any particular interest in tea or cakes, but it was a formality.

“I mean, he’s disabled, right?” Geun-tae said offhandedly, as if it were common sense-- and it _was_\-- “they’re automatically classified as a low-ranking citizen in the social hierarchy, regardless of heritage.”

And that-- that was a surprise.

“Isn’t that old thinking?” Han-dae spoke out of turn but he couldn’t be bothered to control himself. The anger seeped through his voice, “King Il has begun movement on helping the disabled become a contributing part of the community--”

“Traditions don’t change easily,” Geun-tae was firm and unfazed, “the citizens may be more accepting of the disabled-- they’ve been coexisting further than King Il’s reign, after all-- it’s the nobles and the royalty that express discontent.”

“But--”

“Han-dae,” Tae-woo spoke up, sternly, “sign is considered the tongue of war and the language of the lowly. Noo-ri knows that-- that’s why he didn’t try to speak to Yun-ho just now in the garden.”

And Han-dae clamped his mouth shut, irritated but speechless.

“There’s nothing we can do about it. Maybe in another decade or something, mindsets will change, but for now, people like that kid are nothing to the economy,” Geun-tae tells them, “they can’t find work, they can’t do business, they can barely be a servant in a little house, because people don’t think they’re capable.”

Tae-woo’s fist clenched over the table as they all sat down.

The beautiful view, yet such a morose topic.

“So, back to what I was_ actually _interested in,” Geun-tae’s tone lifted, changing into a beaming grin, “so, why did Mun-dok put a boy in a dress? I want _all_ the details.”

Pause.

“Fuck, when did you find out?”

“Already dropping the manners? I like you already!”

-

“Ah, oh my.”

Noo-ri had tried to pour tea,but he’d missed the cup. Only realizing a second too late he’d spilled the precious tea all over the counter.

Setting the jug down quickly, he bowed his head in shame.

Yun-ho had reached for a rag quickly, soaking up the spillage before it’d dripped to the floors. Some maids had fetched a wet cloth to clean up.

What a shameful display. He couldn’t even act the part of a maid right-- this was even his best skill… why did he fumble, though?

_Ah, because half of his vision is obstructed by the cloth mask. _It made sense that his depth perception was awry. He should have made doubly sure.

“It’s fine, Noo-ri, sweetie, lift your head, we all make mistakes…”

Reaching up to his cloth mask but not removing it, he cast Yun-ho another apologetic look.

Yun-ho watched his actions for a few moments-- then smiled.

“Wanna try again?” she suggested, reaching over to Noo-ri’s sleeve, folding it upward once then tucking them in so they weren’t as loose.

Almost shyly, Noo-ri brushed his bangs away from his face, and flushed a little before he nodded.

Yun-ho beamed.

“So, Noo-ri, where did you come from?” Yun-ho asked, “Lord Mun-dok must’ve picked you up from somewhere… Sky?”

Noo-ri shook his head.

“Water?” Yun-ho wondered, but Noo-ri shook his head again, so, “you’re from Fire? No wonder your hands are so chapped and calloused.”

When Yun-ho clasped Noo-ri’s hands in hers, Noo-ri tore away in surprise. His hands were not the roughest, but it was definitely scabbed around the edges and the skin peeled from dryness. It was clean, but nasty to look at compared to Lady Yun-ho’s smooth, gentle, and beautiful fingers.

Yun-ho giggled at the flustered reaction.

This time, when they handled the leaves, swirled the spoon in the pot, and poured the tea into cups-- Noo-ri was calm. He imagined himself in the past, joyfully brewing a pot for the same crowd, knowing their reactions would come in the same sequence.

Zeno would lovingly enjoy it. Abi would grudgingly admit it was delicious. Shuten and Guen both hated it, but they made sure to drink at least half of it every time, only leaving or discarding any in case of a fight. They never refused the tea.

And King Hiyuu would drink it calmly, savouring every drop, and smile in gratitude.

(Those were Sang’s happiest, most useful days.)

Noo-ri made no mistakes this time. Serving up a cup just for him and Yun-ho, he set the pot aside and he held his hands together in a prayer, closing his eyes.

(_May your hearts soar and your soul be at ease_.)

Yun-ho cast him a curious look, but did not interrupt him. Noo-ri gestured for her to go right ahead, and Yun-ho reached for a cup quickly, admiring the pleasant aroma that wafted from the concoction.

_Amazing._

Even_ she_ had never been able to bring out the aroma of the leaves this far. Was it in the way the leaves were steamed? The pot was warmed? Or the temperature of the water? She was so, so curious.

And when Yun-ho took a sip, the gentlest, softest smile bloomed onto her face. The response came so naturally to her, she only noticed she was smiling when she leaned in to take her next sip.

It was so warm-- so warm, she almost felt like crying.

“The tea you make is so kind,” she told him, dabbing away the wetness at the edge of her eyes-- “I wonder what’s come over me.”

Something beyond her, something in her blood cried out for the warmth of home.

-

They walk in on Guen-tae bursting into laughter.

Chul-rang, his advisor, was there too, though his chuckling was far more controlled. Tae-woo and Han-dae had their faces in their hands.

“Oh, Yun-ho, come one in!” Guen-tae exclaimed when he spotted the pair, “the kids were just telling me the funniest story in the world. And kids, try out Yun-ho’s tea. She’s still trying things out, though.”

“Noo-ri!” Han-dae noticed the maid-boy, holding a tray of tea behind Yun-ho. He waved for two seconds, then ran up to take the tray from the boy’s hand.

Noo-ri’s face fell, almost exasperated. What’s the point of a maid if you help her with the chores? _Are we still doing the maid thing? Can I take off the dress?_

“Did you make a friend?” Tae-woo teased the sight.

Noo-ri looked away bashfully, and Yun-ho giggled.

Han-dae set the tray on the table, and Noo-ri reached out for the pot-- missing it by half an inch and nearly knocking over a cup before Tae-woo shot a hand out to keep it firm.

After that initial heart attack moment, they all breathed a sigh of relief and Tae-woo smiled fondly.

“Guess you really can’t see well with that mask, huh?” he joked, and Noo-ri wanted to curl up into a hole and cry.

“Is it _really_ that bad?” Guen-tae joked, “I’ve seen my fair share of ugly scars. Surely one more won’t ruin my appetite for stinky tea.”

“There’s no point in hiding it if we’re going to show you everything!” Han-dae insisted, arms held up in a whole big X, “Lord Mun-dok said no, so the answer is no.”

“If we hide it wisely, it’ll be useful,” Tae-woo supplied, taking a cup off the tray and blowing on it before taking a careful sip, “like, for recon or something.”

“You are actually insinuating spywork in the Earth Land right in front of me,” Guen-tae wrinkled his nose at the tea, but took a cup anyways, “you have some great guts, kid. I expected nothing less from Mun-dok’s brats.”

“Lord Guen-tae, we are supposed to be having a political conversation,” Chul-rang warned them all, casting stern glances at the Earth tribe general, then at the two Wind tykes, “please mind your threats-- both ways.”

They all give equally whiny groans in retaliation.

“That aside--” Chul-rang picked up a cup of tea for himself, “this is certainly a splendid aroma, Lady Yun-ho. Are you trying a new blend?”

“Really? I still think it stinks,” Tae-woo mumbled.

“It smells stronger than usual,” Guen-tae muttered in agreement.

Han-dae picked up a cup for himself. Unlike the other two uneducated muscle-brains, he was the kind that sort of understood the strong smell of tea. But he was the kind that also didn’t understand the taste of tea, so he didn’t say anything.

“Oh-- no, it’s the same blend as usual…” Yun-ho quickly denied, “I was surprised as well… Noo-ri makes such great tea, doesn’t she?”

All movement in the vicinity paused.

Guen-tae took another thoughtful sip-- and stared at the teacup, his mind deep in consideration for this new piece of information.

Tae-woo’s mouth hung agape in disbelief.

Han-dae took another sip, and laughed.

“Hey, Lord Geun-tae! I don’t know a thing about tea and all of that, but you market this, it might sell!”


	13. "Around Town"

Noo-ri rested in one the classier servant’s quarters throughout their stay.

They had initially asked for him to bunk with Chul-rang, but on the premise that Noo-ri was to act like a maid, it was deemed inappropriate for their reputation, and so a separate lodging was prepared.

He was offered a change of clothes, but there’s just _one_ problem.

Lord Geun-tae had a sense of humour, and that was the fact that these were definitely a pair of Yun-ho’s old clothes, with how gaudy and impressive they were.

The fact that they were girl’s clothes was the least of the problems here.

Sure, it was worn out, it's something a good noble palace maid can wear outside of her uniform… so it fits the setting Noo-ri was supposed to abide with.

But, seriously… if he wants to go out, he’d rather stand out a little _less_.

In fact, he wasn’t just sent here to hide out from the Fire Tribe.

-

“You'll probably have a lot of free time, so when you’re bored go ahead and take a walk around the city,” Lord-Mun-dok told him. He handed the boy a little sack, which the boy received with both hands. “Here, pocket money.”

Noo-ri stared at it curiously. It’s probably the first time he’d seen that much modern currency at once.

“Everyone once in a while, we send spies to survey the town just to see how they’re doing,” Tae-woo explained, pointing at his Grandfather, “like, check out the trade and see if there’s anything new, or look around the sketchier parts and see how corrupt things are. It’s like a little police thing the generals like to play with each other.”

Noo-ri blinked-- _so reconnaissance, is it?_

“Usually, I have Han-dae do it, but he talks too much,” Mun-dok sent a side glance at the boy, who chuckled bashfully. He turned back to Noo-ri. “You’re not as well-known, and you’re as nimble as a Wind child, so it should be easy for you.”

“Plus, you’re pretty good at laying low,” Han-dae smiled at him, “I’m sure you’ll do fine. Just take a tour around town and tell us if you find anything cool, alright? It’s fine if you don’t see anything special, either.”

Noo-ri locked down slightly, cheeks a little flushed. He was being allowed to go off on his own, and he was even getting pocket money that he could spend?

(It sounded so… nice.)

**_“I’ll try my best,”_** he signed.

Tae-woo patted him on the head, chortling. “Don’t think too hard! Just go out and have fun wherever you want, okay? And try not to get into trouble.”

Noo-ri nodded.

(He was excited.)

-

_Don’t think too much about it and just go have fun, _huh.

He closed the closet, and decided to go over and steal (sorry, I mean _borrow_) a pair of some other servant’s clothes instead.

He picked out a pair of male clothes that had a stain and a tear in them, decided it was fit for him, and wore it.

If he was going to wander around the city, he should dress like his face.

Tae-woo and Han-dae were headed to the mines, and Noo-ri was told to busy himself in the town or the palace wherever. He remembered to take the pocket money from Grandpa Mun-dok, not that he was brave enough to use it.

Noo-ri stared at the little sack of money for the hundredth time.

He takes off the cloth mask, and looks himself in the mirror. The scar was quite a sight to behold when it wasn’t covered…

_Ah, that’s right._

His bangs were left down in the maid disguise, to hide his features and to appear just a little more submissive as a servant. Since he was showing his scar anyways, he may as well parade it.

He brushed his hair upwards with his fingers, swiping his bangs to the back of his head-- then he fastened it there with a wooden clip he’d snatched from Yun-ho’s room.

Now he positively looks like a hooligan.

He pulled at his cheeks, wondering if he still remembered how to smile like a ruffian. He gave up after a while cause it wasn’t working at all.

_Alright then._

Guess he’ll go take a walk or something.

-

Earth Tribe lands are big and full of mountains.

Chi’shin is a pretty luxurious city, lined by weapon stores, game houses, and grand restaurants. Noo-ri, with his scar and all, stayed in the alleys and wandered the slums.

He felt more at home there, because once they found out he was mute, they didn’t look at him with disdain, rejection, or even disappointment.

Instead, their eyes flashed with understanding. Quickly, they shifted gears, dragging him around the community and introducing him to others who knew the language of the crooks. Lots were war veterans, so many knew.

Noo-ri’s never felt more comfortable. Everyone could understand him, as if he was a person that could speak.

(It made him so happy.)

-

“How old are you?” one of them, a one-footed war veteran that did not name himself, asked.

**_“I’m not sure_**,”he signs to the man, **_“I’m an orphan_**.”

It’s a lie, but in a community like this, there can never be enough secrets to hold.

They bring him around, helping him assimilate with the group. They chatter and gossip about the town, letting biased opinions on politics and economics swirl around.

_This was really the best place to learn about a country._

Noo-ri finds himself in a slum-run orphanage, where a little lady was teaching the much younger children how to write their names. On the other hand, a teenager missing an eye taught the children how to playfully swing wooden swords in battle.

It was peaceful, even in the slums.

There were people ridden with sickness, but they did their best. They had meager shelter and a scarcity of food, but they made do. They had too many children, but they never let any of them go.

**Like Guen, this town loved its people.**

_They have little on their own, but they treasure what little they have._

His blood was definitely in this town, in each of these people. The spirit of the town was looked after by the legacy of the White Dragon that left it behind.

It’s minuscule, but it is definitely there.

Noo-ri couldn’t help but smile to himself, feeling the nostalgic warmth of the Whtie Dragon fill him with hospitality.

-

Everyone gave his face a very repulsed look, but no one’s asked. Noo-ri isn’t too sure which is ruder, but he honestly wouldn’t mind.

He sat on the roof of a very tall building, admiring the sunshine, the fresh air, and the wind from the sea.

_So there’s a port town a little over that way, _he thought, taking in the cacophony. _There’s a very faint smell of the sea._

It felt nice to finally run around in pants again.

He put his hands between his legs, closing his eyes and enjoying the wind of the town. It’s heaven compared to his month in the jungle.

Although he loved the Wind too, the Earth had a roughness to it that he felt more at home in. If the Wind Tribe was a warm hug, the Earth Tribe was akin to a strong shoulder to lean on.

Maybe it’s because he’d spent so much time in the Fire tribe, curled up in his village and never having enough space to run-- but this town, and the Wind, both felt liberating.

He felt like a free person, and if he could, he’d spread his wings and wish he could fly.

He turned to the sky-- and for a surprised second, he thought he saw something green flash by, soaring through the skyline and vanishing into the distance, like a bird.

_...wait. Huh?_

No, that was no imagination.

He swirled to attention, and sure enough, something leapt up in the distance, like a very tall bunny hop. The figure landed on a roof before he bounced away again. He was too far out for Noo-ri to chase, but it was very clear from where he sat.

** _“Lord Shuten?”_ **


	14. "Updating Knowledge"

The boy returned to the palace soon enough, changing out of his disguise and setting himself back into girl’s dress before letting down his bangs and tying the mask over his eye again.

“Hey, Noo-ri,” the door opened suddenly, “we’re back!”

A spear was shot at the intruders.

“AAack!” Han-dae squawked, diving to the side while kicking Tae-woo in the knees. Tae-woo yelped, buckling-- and the spear narrowly missed him.

Everyone stared at the weapon that was now embedded into a wall.

Noo-ri straightened himself by his mirror, fixing his mask in the mirror so his bangs were arranged neatly. Then he turned to the crowd.

**_“Sorry, force of habit,”_** he signed.

“Are you trying to kill us?!” Tae-woo retorted, pointing jarringly at the spear, “that was two inches from my head!”

**_“Sorry, force of habit,”_** he repeated himself.

Han-dae chuckled nervously, feeling a few years shave off his life. “Where did you even get that spear, anyway? Why is it in your room?”

Noo-ri, finished with his preparations, walked up to the two boys. **_“Shouldn’t let your guard down in enemy territory,”_** he said,**_“always be prepared to fight.”_**

** **

Tae-woo and Han-dae stared at him.

Noo-ri stared back, not sure why the two looked at him with such incredulous expressions. Did he say something wrong?

“Uhh, ah, right,” Han-dae started, turning to Tae-woo, “Ayame said that the signs for ‘enemy territory’ and ‘foreign lands’ were interchangeable, right?”

“Ah, that makes more sense,” Tae-woo said. He put his hand on Noo-ri’s head. “Don’t worry! We’re in the palace, so we’re safe here. You can relax, like you do back at home-- Lord Geun-tae is a trustworthy man, after all.”

“There are guards patrolling the grounds, so no one will try anything. They’re especially keen on taking care of us from Wind, because Lord Mun-dok is known to be Lord Geun-tae’s old drinking buddy. They value our trust a lot.”

“Now let’s put that spear back wherever it came from and get our dinner, shall we?”

So they tug Noo-ri along the road. The boy’s confused-- what’s wrong with being on his guard in unfamiliar territory? If you don’t sleep with an eye open in someone else’s domain, you’d regret it!

With one of his hands in Han-dae’s, Noo-ri couldn’t find the opportunity to continue arguing about his reasons.

(Then he realized.)

_This was normal. The new normal._

The five tribes were in harmony, cooperating and in a very unified alliance, no longer holding any sort of ill will against each other. There’s no enemy country attacking them, and any land within their own was a place you could sleep soundly.

There was no reason to be constantly on alert.

This wasn’t war.

This was what it truly meant to not be in battle.

(Noo-ri will have to get used to this… this calmness, this feeling of safety...)

(...This time of _peace_.)

-

-

Lady Yun-ho didn’t understand sign language, but she was very eager to talk to Noo-ri about random things.

“That reminds me of a legend in Kouka,” she surmised, when Noo-ri managed to explain what he saw in text, “it’s a story of the creation of the country.”

And Noo-ri straightened with attention.

“I’ve only heard it in passing when I was visiting the Sky Tribe, but it went like this…” she tried to recall, “there was a red dragon god that loved humans so much, he became one. Then…”

_A red dragon god that ruled and came to ruin, betrayed by humans. Then came the four dragon god, who did not want to leave him..._

Yes, that is the story. It’s the very fantasiacal story he’d experience so many centuries ago, that he never ceased to think was an amazing feat.

_So it was just a fable now_… makes sense. It’s the origin of the country, after all.

Maybe he should read it up. He has a lot more to catch up on than what the Wind Tribe had taught him thus far.

“...the four dragons gave their blood to human warriors, and granted them strength.” Yun-ho nursed a cup of tea as Noo-ri poured out another for himself. “They say one of them had claws, and another could soar. Sounds like what you saw, doesn’t it?”

Noo-ri nodded, smiling.

_It really did._

And that, for some reason, only unsettled him. He put a hand over his chest, frowning.

If the dragons really were still around-- there had to be a reason. There had to be a reason why the dragons’ spirit lived on, even so many centuries away.

He looked to the sky and closed his eyes.

(It’s a coincidence.)

(What he saw was not Lord Shuten.)

(It’s a coincidence, surely.)

-

-

“You’re supposed to be my maid, I’m not supposed to go hunting around looking for you.”

** _“Hi, hi.”_ **

Noo-ri didn't even look up from his book, he just gestured with his free hand, flipping a page with his other. He was much more interested in his book than anything.

“Are you listening to me? What are you even reading? God, look at this chaos.”

There were scrolls spilled all over the place. The library wasn’t even that big-- Noo-ri just raided the whole place like he was trying to turn it upside down.

“You’re unexpectedly a very messy person,” Tae-woo observed.

** _“I’ll put them back when I’m done.”_ **

** **

Tae-woo picked up a scroll. Then a codex. He hummed with slight interest.

“I guess it’s a little late to say this, but you know how to read, huh?” he said in awe, “even I can’t read this much.”

In a community where only males learned how to read and write, Noo-ri was an anomaly in both lives. Sang studied in secret, on his own. Noo-ri learned from his mother, because his mother was one of the rare ones that could read.

Lord Abi would always teach him new words, too.

**_“There’s a lot of illustration, so I can get the basic idea even without reading it fully,”_** Noo-ri signed,**_ “it’s the history of the country.”_**

“A detailed documentation of wars,” Tae-woo recognized the development of weapons and the numbers that indicated dates. He looked at the maid, “why are you reading this?”

Noo-ri smiled sadly.

**_“There’s a lot I have to learn,”_** he signed.

Tae-woo scoffed. “You’re a really studious type, eh? If you weren’t mute, I’d say you were aiming for a position as a minister.”

Noo-ri signed back,**_ “I will take that as a compliment.”_**

** **

Tae-woo sat down beside Noo-ri, hands gliding across a scroll and observing the old map of the kingdom.

“They certainly have older things than the Wind Tribe,” Tae-woo noted the position of an X right near Fuuga, marked _Hakuryuu_. “Better maintained, too.”

Noo-ri set a hand on the mark, and his gaze on it was meaningful.

_This is Lord Guen’s tribe_, he thought to himself, _he was always one to solidify his roots, but he was never one for sentimental history._

All this was just the bare minimum, and everything important was probably there, where the mark is-- the White Dragon’s village.

_Lord Abi was always the one that liked to keep things organised. Surely his tribe would have the important information… Lord Shuten’s a lost cause, which was why the Wind Tribe didn’t have anything beyond the basics._

_What about Lord Zeno? He never really liked to read or write… but he was where the palace was. Surely there were plenty of ministers who liked to keep records._

The Water Tribe and the Sky Tribe. That’s where he’ll find the most information.

None of the Dragons stayed with their tribes in the long term, so he’ll have to look out for the White Dragon village or the Blue Dragon village if he could.

Noo-ri began putting the scrolls back, settling on just one codex to study.

**_“I will ask General Geun-tae if I am permitted to bring this to my room,”_**he signed.

“You could just take it home, you know?” Tae-woo told him, “I’m sure Lord Geun-tae doesn’t really read any of them, anyways.”

Noo-ri pondered on that.

** _“I think I’ll ask Lord Chul-rang instead.”_ **

** **

(Noo-ri has given up on the future of the Earth Tribe. Chul-rang must be so tired, he’s carrying this entire country because the general is a doofus.)


	15. "Mister Knight"

Yun-ho had the bad habit of ditching her guards in her airheaded shopping walks.

She would put the guard’s attention on this new fancy object, and then she would chase a butterfly and vanish right away. She rarely notices herself doing it, but it throws the guards into a panic.

No matter how vigilant the guards were, Yun-ho’s airheadedness exceeded it.

And that brought us to the situation right now.

Yun-ho stared blankly. She was deep in the alleys of an industrial area. She could hear the market, but the road towards there was a maze.

“This is troubling…”

-

She’s dressed extravagantly and she’s missing her guards. Lord Geun-tae has warned her many, many times about how this looks.

But people in the Earth tribe were usually really nice to her. Maybe she’ll be fine.

“Hey, missy, what're you doing alone here?”

She turned around. There was a man she didn’t recognize, large and scarred and exuding the same energy as Lord Geun-tae, except five times more rough and three times more pedophilic with his smiles.

She smiled at him.

“Oh… I’m sorry, I’m a little lost,” she said. “Could you perhaps lead me back to the main road?”

“Yes, of course,” the man-- let’s call him Mister Brute-- grinned, insinuating anything but good intentions, “right this way.” And he walked further into the back streets.

Yun-ho vaguely knew that she would be in so much trouble if she followed him, but if she made any sudden movements now, the man would grab her and if there’s a stain, her guards would get angry and go on a manhunt.

She’d rather not deal with that.

She’d get too many guards again and she wouldn’t be able to shop in peace.

She took one step forward-- and to her surprise, a figure leapt down from the roof, landing just another step before her.

“What-?!”

Yun-ho found herself impressed. Mister Brute swirled around, alarmed. His hostile body language meant that he was feeling anger against an unnecessary interference.

Her strange little Knight stood just a little taller than herself.

His hair was a deep brown in the light, and his clothes were torn in parts. A civilian boy, perhaps from the more slum-like parts of the town.

He was slender, but his arms had a weight in them. Like Chul-rang-- not overwhelming with strength, but firm and toned.

Mister Knight had a hand out before Yun-ho, stopping her advance.

She couldn’t see his face from where she was, but she recognized the body language-- she’s being protected right now, and what she had to do was smile and enjoy being a damsel in distress.

“Scarface, she’s mine. Back off,” Mister Brute snarled, all fake kindness wiped from his previous demeanor.

Mister Knight raised his other hand, and swiped sharply to the side, twirling in odd and stern gestures.

_Oh,_ Yun-ho recognized them from when Noo-ri spoke to the palace boys. _That’s sign language. _Mister Knight must be like Noo-ri, then.

He signed quickly, so quickly Yun-ho could barely catch anything-- not that she could understand, anyways. But it’s fascinating how quickly he does it.

According to her maids, Noo-ri always slowed it down for the less accustomed palace boys to understand him. So that’s how fast it’s actually done? Cool.

A second later, Mister Brute snaps.

“It’s none of your fucking business what I do! You’re new here, don’t push your luck!” he was suddenly aggressive now, stepping forward confrontationally.

Mister Knight responds by slamming his foot down, doing a magnificent spin, and then landing one sharp kick across Mister Brute’s face.

Yun-ho sparkled in awe.

Mister Knight finishes his attack by turning around and taking Yun-ho by the wrists. For a second, the lady takes in the boy’s face.

His eyes were green, that’s the first thing she noticed. The left eye is a little blue underneath, but both were beautiful shades.

Then she sees the large, gruesome scar across his cheek, as if a bear had gouged out his face and barely failed.

She doesn’t feel disgusted.

Lord Geun-tae had a number of wounds like those on his torso, and he always calls them marks of pride, trophies of war, and a sign of selfless bravery.

(Though, Chul admits, he’s tooting his own horn for half of that.)

Yun-ho found herself running, Mister Knight taking her away and across the labyrinthine alleys and into uncharted territory. And though she still didn’t know where she’s headed toward-- somehow, she felt safe being led around by him.

She smiled, because somehow, she’s having fun.

-

Yun-ho was entranced.

The boy leapt around with all the grace of a cat. He was a boy, yet he was so elegant, aso delicate-- compared to her usual view with Lord Geun-tae, this was a sight to behold.

His hand was rough and calloused, but they only made her want to kiss them.

Most boys in the Earth Tribe had hands like these from tough training sessions, and Yun-ho could never think of a better way to cheer them up. It always made Lord Geun-tae angry though.

(No, no, her type of man was definitely Lord Geun-tae, but seeing Mister Knight, she wanted to tug him around the palace and be his bestest ever friend. He was so delicate, unlike usual rough Earth boys.)

(...in hindsight, maybe he’s not from the Earth Tribe?)

“Hey…” she spoke up, and the boy jolted, freezing shock still and quickly releasing the lady’s hand.

He took two steps back, then bowed, like he was apologizing for daring to touch her.

Yun-ho chuckled at that. “Thank you for saving me,” she said, smiling sweetly. “I am Yun-ho. May I know your name?”

She started with an introduction. She’s not too sure how to do this… but she’s heard that outside the palace, it’s fine for people to be a little rude, right?

Oh, but she’s a Lady of the Palace. _Is this considered unbecoming behaviour?_

Predictably, Mister Knight shook his head, refusing. He did not gesture anything for her to interpret, so he either figured she couldn’t understand… or he knew she was from the palace, so he didn’t sign in fear of appearing rude.

This is the problem with being the General’s woman, she can’t go out incognito.

Yun-ho sighed. Then she brimmed into a smile again, resigning to her noble little fate. “If it would not trouble you, Mister Knight, would you lead me back to my guards?”

Mister Knight flushed a little at the new nickname, but he bowed like a butler and nodded.

Almost impressively, Yun-ho found herself back in the market. Her guards were in a panic, yelling at each other over the street and swirling their head so quickly around she was worried they’d pop a few veins.

Then one of them spotted her, and they started crying in relief.

She giggled at them. Oh, they were so cute!

She turned back around to thank Mister Knight-- but Mister Knight had already vanished from the moment her guards found her.

He left nothing behind, and Yun-ho felt a little sad.

(But it’s fine.)

The mysterious Mister Knight will show up again one day, and until then, she’ll be her little downtown adventure secret.

Doesn’t that sound exciting?

-

She got a lecture from Lord Geun-tae after that, but she knows he’s weak to her tears so it ends very quickly.

-

The next day, Noo-ri and the rest of the Wind Boys finally leave to return to Fuuga.

Yun-ho made sure to give them a parcel of tea leaves in their tribe-ly exchange of goods, plus a certain souvenir from her little outdoor excursion. She went out to get this, after all-- she couldn’t let Noo-ri leave without it.

It’s a little protection charm, and when she filled it with tea leaves, they smelled like home and the forest and something a little more.

Noo-ri promised to treasure it.

It’s when she saw them off, and Noo-ri turned around to wave goodbye-- that the maid smiled just a little, and the cloth mask on her face lifted in the wind.

Yun-ho’s eyes widened at the familiar scar underneath-- but she smiled, not at all disappointed by her new revelation.

In fact, she glimmered with boundless admiration.

(She can’t wait to meet Mister Knight again.)


End file.
